


The Shift

by SherlockWolf



Series: SherlockWolf's Alternate S13 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Destiel - Freeform, Hugs, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Season/Series 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 13:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13905075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWolf/pseuds/SherlockWolf
Summary: The night after Cas brain-zaps Donatello, Dean considers their situation. Then he and his angel reconcile.(1st in series of altered season 13, can be read as a one-shot.)





	The Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy, and as always if there are any grammar/spelling/weirdness let me know! <3
> 
> P.S. See if you can catch my reference to Cas' wings :3

    Castiel is terrified.

    Dean isn’t sure what to do other than appease him, to take the edge off. He takes the action Cas begged for by burying himself in the bunker’s library for the rest of the night, searching for the locations of the objects they’ll need.

    But he’s apprehensive. Cas is…reminiscent of the version of himself he was when Dean first met him. And when he was working with Crowley, that first time. And when he was possessed by Naomi. All this _soldier_ talk…It’s freaking Dean out, if he’s honest with himself. Bad things happen when Cas gets like this.

    It’s not that Cas _intends_ for shit to hit the fan. Dean’s certain of that. The angel is just kinda…shrouded by a cloud of bad luck he can’t shake off.

    But this time Cas is _afraid_. It’s enough of a difference from his old behaviour that Dean’s… _more_ worried, if anything. Dean’s done some dumb shit when he was scared. He knows how powerful and misdirecting fear can be. And Cas is comparatively new to fear, and emotion in general, which means he doesn’t know how to manage it well.

    Which was why he microwaved Donatello’s brain.

    Dean can’t even blame him, not really. He’s just as scared as the angel. This whole Michael-Lucifer War 2.0—3.0? Dean’s not even sure—has him psyched out and exhausted. On one hand, Dean wishes angels would just shut the hell up and lock themselves away. On the other, he wants to personally stab every single one of the sons-of-bitches.

    Except Cas, of course. Not that he needs to remind himself of that.

   Sam disagrees. Harshly. He’s still pissed at Cas over Donatello, thinks the angel is already down that beaten path to failure. That’s why he’s locked up in his room, probably doing research via the internet. Separated. Making a point. Sam doesn’t want to be around either of them right now, and Dean’s not interested in forcing him.

    Normally, Dean would side with Sam: they need to take some more time before rushing into their plan. Normally, Dean would insist that Sam is right to point out that they need to reassess the fact that Asmodeus is onto them. Normally, Dean would let Cas storm out of the bunker door into the time-abyss of _who knows when he’ll come home_.

    Nothing about Dean’s mental state or behaviour is normal. Not anymore. He can’t afford to be. He can’t afford to let Cas walk out. He can’t afford to lose him. Not again.

    He knows why he’s so desperate for Cas to stay. Losing the angel to a death more permanent than usual had been a harsh reboot to his mind, heart, and soul. He gets this tense feeling in his chest every time the angel looks at him, or talks to him, or is just in the same room. It’s like a weight is on his ribs, trapping his lungs in half-breaths. Dean knows what that feeling is. He knows why it’s there. He just isn’t sure what to do about it, especially when they have much bigger problems to deal with right now. Such as yet another angel war.

    But Dean also knows that it’s that tense feeling that’s driving his abnormal behaviour. He can’t let the angel out of his sight for more than a few hours. Cas wants to kill Lucifer? Dean will go with him. Cas wants to rescue Jack and Mom? Dean will go with him. Cas wants to kill Michael 2.0? Dean will go with him. Dean can’t abandon Cas. Not like he did Cassie, or Jo, or Lisa, or Benny.

    He can’t do that to _Cas_.

    Yeah, he’d realized how fucked up he really is when he’d first come to terms with that, a few years ago. He’d swear on every holy book in the world that he loved each person, but his actions scream otherwise. Dean’s a selfish asshole and love only makes that worse. The best anyone got was Lisa, and arguably Benny. Dean abandoned Cassie with her trauma. And Jo…his stomach still rolls when he thinks about her.

    But Cas…Dean’s fucked him up. Irrevocably. He’s let Cas become who he is now: a broken and beaten thing, fallen from Heavenly status, with so many self-worth and lack-of self-preservation issues he may as well have been born a Winchester. Which in a weird, not-so-fun way, he kinda was.

    Anyway. Dean has resolved not do that to Cas. Not again, not anymore. If Cas needs him—wants him—Dean will go. He’ll do what he can to _help_ rather than hinder the angel. He’ll give Cas the support and trust he’s been asking for all these years, and has gotten so sparingly.

    Which starts with Dean refocusing on the book that’s been lying open in front of his face for the last twenty minutes. He’s reading up on the _Seal of Solomon_ and hoping with fingers crossed that it isn’t going to be more Mark-of-Cain-style bullshit. So far it isn’t, but he’s still not happy about it.

   A heavy sigh brings his attention to Cas, who’s walking toward the small table Dean’s at with two mugs of coffee. The angel’s taken his coats off and likely ditched them in his room, so he looks smaller than usual. Not any less powerful—Dean knows how much muscle is packed into those arms—but more…fitting to his fear, Dean supposes.

    Cas sets the mugs on the table and sits in the chair across the table from Dean. They regard one another for a moment before Dean returns his attention to his book and ignores the routine beat of his heart.

    Unfortunately, Cas has other plans.

    “Have you talked to Sam?”

    Dean doesn’t glance up. Not yet. He’s got to get his heart under control, and looking into those blue eyes will _not_ help.

    “No. It’s only been a few hours. Give him time.”

    Cas falls quiet. Dean listens to him sip his coffee and tries to read. The angel shuffles around in his seat for a few minutes, and Dean wonders if he’s debating which book to search for or if he’s still got more to say.

    Turns out to be the latter.

    “I didn’t expect you to…agree.” _To side with me_.

    Dean leans back in his chair with a huff and looks up at Cas, shrugging. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t know what to say. What can he say?

    _Cas, I’ve re-evaluated my life and discovered I love you, so yeah I’m gonna pick your side._

_Cas, I’ll agree with anything you say as long as you don’t leave me again._

_Cas, please just promise to stay alive and stick to it this time._

    “Thank you.” Cas continues, when he senses that Dean is hesitating.

    He gives Dean a soulful, genuine look that makes that tension in his chest increase.

    “No problem. Really Cas, it’s…what I want to do, anyway.” Dean confesses.

    Maybe a little truth won’t hurt.

    Apparently, this was the last thing Cas had expected to hear, because he leans forward over the table and stares at Dean with the utmost sincerity written on his face.

    “You don’t…owe me anything. You know everything I do is—.”

    “For me, yeah. I get it. Which is why I’m doing this _for you_.” Dean insists, throwing Cas’ words back at him.

    Once again Cas looks at him like he’s made of stars. Which to be fair, Castiel can see his soul, and if science is correct then life came from stardust…Dean’s heart is like a hammer on the roof of his skull.

    “Thank you, Dean.” Cas says reverently.

    Dean nods and looks back down at his book. He pretends to read—flipping pages for realism—but he’s still thinking about Cas. Except now, instead of introspection, his mind is focused on the angel as he stands and moves about the shelves in Dean’s peripheral, searching for a book related to their mission.

    The clock behind one of the cases of artifacts ticks away the hours as Cas’ fingers dance over the spines, tracing lines of love into each letter of the title and pages before moving to the next. His heels tap the rhythm of an unknown song as he slides along the shelves. Dean’s coffee grows cold where it sits forgotten on the table, its drinker occupied with watching the performance before him. Dean doesn’t realize that he’s actually looked up until Cas meets his eyes and smiles soft, warm, and vulnerable.

    Dean’s lungs constrict and he feels tears prick hot in the corners of his eyes. He closes his eyes to fight them off, and lets the image of that smile sink into his mind. He doesn’t hear Cas walk over, but when his skin feels warm and tingly, he knows the angel is standing above him. A hand rests on his shoulder, and without thought Dean lifts his and wraps his fingers around Cas’ wrist.

    Dean opens his eyes and watches as Cas’ gentle smile returns, just for him.

    “Don’t go.” Dean mumbles, his voice rough and patchy with disuse and hurt.

    Cas squints at him, confused. “I—.”

    Dean shakes his head, squeezes his eyes shut and fights back tears again. He doesn’t want to hear Cas’ excuses. He grabs a loose part of the angel’s shirt with his free hand, pulling him in until Dean can wrap both arms around Cas’ waist and rest his head against his stomach. The angel huffs in surprise at this style of interruption, but puts his arms over Dean’s shoulders nonetheless. One hand lands dangerously close to the back of Dean’s neck, and his heart races at the feeling of warmth just below his nape. His body shivers involuntarily as he takes in the feeling of Cas _there_ and _real_ and _alive._ Dean can touch him, can confirm the life thrumming through the angel’s veins.

    He’s drunk on it.

    Dean lets himself feel Cas’ life for a minute, an eternity. Then he steadies his lungs and wills his heart to slow. There’s nothing he can do to erase the tear tracks from his cheeks, or the wet spot on Cas’ shirt. There’s no hiding the shimmer of water in his eyes as he leans back and looks up at the angel. Dean doesn’t find himself surprised to find that Cas is holding back tears of his own.

    Castiel is terrified, after all. He has a lot to lose, too. Sometimes Dean forgets that.

    “Whatever you need, Cas. I mean it. I’ll go.” Dean promises.

    “Okay.” Cas agrees seamlessly, not even asking for context.

    But Dean’s not sure he believes him, so he adds, “Together, remember?”

    Cas nods, that sincerity returning. “Yes, together.”

    After a moment, Dean decides that Cas deserves a real hug, the kind Dean doesn’t give _or_ get enough. He stands which unbalances Cas, who teeters a few steps backward. Dean’s maybe a little rougher than necessary as he pulls Cas stable against him, but when Cas folds against him Dean can’t find an ounce of regret. Cas is warm and soft—a recurring theme—and Dean makes a vow to himself to hug the angel more often. Fleeting touches are no longer enough.

    They never were.

    “I’m sorry for today.” Cas murmurs, breath whispering against Dean’s neck.

    Dean’s heart begins to drum again.

    “It’s…in the past, ‘kay? We just gotta keep going, keep the goal in sight.”

    Cas lets out a breath of relief, leaning more of his weight into Dean. Dean’s grateful for it; he doesn’t want to let go, and the longer Cas stays like this the more excuse Dean gets to hold him, gets to _feel_ that Cas is alive. The angel has been back from the dead for almost a month yet Dean still can’t quite believe his luck. By all accounts, Cas should still be dead, and Dean should still be lost. A shell of himself, all because of this celestial creature that had chosen _him_ over everything else the world—hell, the universe itself—had to offer.

    Dean’s gut surges with an emotion he can only name with one word.

    _Fuck it, I’ve got to tell him._

    “Cas, I want you to know that—.” Dean begins, but pauses when he hears Cas take in a sharp breath.

    The angel tenses in his arms, and Dean’s not sure why. Cas can’t know what he’s going to say. So what does he _think_ Dean’s going to say? That Dean’s going to call him his brother again, lie to his face, pretend that their relationship is something it isn’t? Dean’s done with that charade.

    “I love you.” Dean finishes, riding out his wave of courage—or insanity.

    “And I don’t thank you enough for what you do, you know? You’re important Cas. You’re family. You’re…everything.” Dean continues in a rush, letting the levee break since it’s already cracked.

    Cas stops breathing.

    Or at least, that’s how Dean interprets the silence. Really, Cas has just stopped altogether. Frozen. Time, life, the spin of the Earth. All of it has stopped for this moment, for this angel, who never thought he would get to hear _that phrase_ uttered by _this man_ , for him and him alone.

    “Cas?” Dean asks eventually, starting to lean back to see the angel’s face.

    But Cas holds him firmly in place. Cas takes a ragged breath, chest expanding against Dean’s as the angel brings himself back into reality. Dean waits, nervous for what Cas is going to say next. But Cas doesn’t speak. He hides his face against Dean’s neck, and Dean feels the full weight of his body rest against his, as though Cas is trying to melt into him. Strangely, Dean doesn’t stumble.

    “Dean, I…Thank you.” Cas whispers.

    Dean manages a small laugh. “No problem?”

    “I know we haven’t talked about it, but when I was in the Empty, the entity I met told me something that…hurt.”

    Dean waits, not sure if Cas wants him to speak or not. When it seems like Cas is going to leave it at that, Dean nudges him with his shoulder.

    “And?” He asks.

    “It said that there was nothing for me here, on Earth.”

    Oh. _Oh._

    That thing had straight up told Cas that he doesn’t matter to Dean.   

    “It was lying.” Dean assures him.

    “I didn’t think…but I hoped.” Cas’ voice is so quiet, Dean would’ve missed his words if his lips hadn’t been pressed against the crook of Dean’s neck.

    Jeeze, he doesn’t deserve Cas.

    Using what remaining willpower he has, Dean puts his hands on Cas’ shoulders and pushes the angel back so that they can look at each other. Cas looks haggard. Dean must look the same. He cups Cas’ cheek in one of his hands and rubs at a tear that falls against his thumb. Cas’ eyes well as Dean gives him a stern, _I-mean-business_ look.

    “Don’t ever let anyone convince you I don’t need you, ‘kay?”

    Cas lights up with that smile, then he drags Dean back into their embrace. He tucks his face right back against Dean’s neck, his breath tickling Dean’s skin. A shudder flies through Dean’s body, leaving his toes sparking. Dean marvels at how easy and _right_ it feels to be in such an intimate position with the angel, as though Dean is hiding—protecting—him from the world. Dean lets the side of his head fall against Cas’.

    “For the record, I don’t enjoy leaving you.” Cas murmurs against Dean’s skin.

    Dean doubts he’ll ever get sick of that sensation. Or of Cas saying things like that.

    “Good. Then stay.” Is all Dean can think of to say.

    Cas chuckles, then Dean feels a barely-there press of lips against his skin, as though Cas is trying to hide the action from him.

    “I love you, too.” Cas whispers.

    Dean feels the universe shift beneath his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going to write a fic series based on the rest of season 13, and the stories will all be linked. This is the first one, and the rest of the fics will branch from the assumption that Dean and Cas have had this moment. I'm excited to see where season 13 goes, and if the SHOW doesn't make destiel canon this time around (they never will) I figure I may as well do it for them (and for me...and for you...).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and let me know if you found the reference to Cas' wings!


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